


act i: now the future has me

by hakyeonni



Series: the man with starlight in his soul [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, M/M, Old Republic Era, slow burn angst, the kpop/star wars crossover no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9378392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakyeonni/pseuds/hakyeonni
Summary: sanghyuk is just a street-rat from tatooine with nothing to his name except two blasters and a protocol droid—that is, until he steals a sith's lightsaber and gets a surprise visit from two jedi...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These fics are set about 3,500 years before the _Star Wars_ movies – however, if you have seen the movies, you’ll be able to read these fics with no problem! Technology and culture (conveniently) hasn’t changed much in that time period. It’s actually based on the universe established in the game _Star Wars: The Old Republic_. I go into more detail about the state of the galaxy in the fic, but to sum up: it’s set in a time of fragile peace between the Republic and the Empire after a war approximately ten years earlier. Otherwise, enjoy! If you have any questions, feel free to ask, or you can google! Everything I put in this fic, apart from VIXX themselves, is something that's found in the Star Wars universe.
> 
> I have also made a [twitter thread](https://twitter.com/hakyeonni/status/821339961362292736) with visualisations of planets, ships, and people mentioned in this fic—it’s not required reading, but it might help you get a feel for everything! :)

Sanghyuk’s holocommunicator starts ringing the moment he raises his blaster and aims at the first womp rat, because of _course_ it does. The only one to have this frequency is C2N2, and that stupid droid certainly has a warped sense of good timing. The womp rats all raise their heads at the noise before tearing across the sand towards him—hideous looking things, about two meters long and with huge buck teeth and a set of four ears—and Sanghyuk drops to one knee and starts shooting. He doesn’t enjoy this, not really, but they _are_ pests and they _do_ dig up and chew the cables for his windmills, and considering they’re the only things keeping food on his table he doesn’t really have a choice. By the time he’s finished his blasters are smoking, the womp rats are dead, and his holocom is _still_ beeping at him. He digs it out of the pocket of his jacket and switches it on, glaring down at the image of the protocol droid that flashes up.

“Master, some visitors have arrived. They wish to see you,” C2N2 chirrups brightly.

Sanghyuk considers throwing the holocom into the distance. Or shooting it. Instead he shrugs, the very picture of nonchalance. “Tell them to go away. I’ll be out all day.”

The property he’s acquired is absolutely huge. He doesn’t know if he would have accepted the deed if he knew just how much work went into running a wind farm as big as this, especially as he only has the droid to help, and the droid is mostly useless. So it’s just Sanghyuk patrolling a giant hunk of land, having to deal with the sand people and the womp rats and dewbacks and bantha and whatever else decides to mess with his day. Which is why most of his life, now, is spent patrolling the property on his speeder, just doing endless loops that never seem to end.

C2N2 looks around, before clasping its hands behind its back nervously. “Master, they’re _Jedi_. I can’t tell them that.”

This time Sanghyuk nearly does throw the holocom away, more out of fear than anything else. Christ. Ordinarily he’d ask what the hell he’s done to deserve a visit from a few Jedi, but he knows _exactly_ what he’s done—and that’s terrifying enough, because he’d only barely gotten away with his life then and he doesn’t know if he’ll get away with it now. “Alright, I’m on my way back,” he mutters to the droid, hanging up the call and stuffing it back in his pocket.

He really, really doesn’t want to go back to the house, but he knows he has to. It’s rude to keep anyone waiting, let alone Jedi, and he tries not to think of the thing he’s got hidden under his bed. That’s probably what they’ve come for, and he can just hand it over, no big deal, and everyone can go on their merry way.

Wrapping his bandana over the lower half of his face, he snaps on his goggles and swings a leg over his speeder bike, pressing the ignition button and smirking with satisfaction as it roars into life. This hadn’t come with the house. He’d stolen this, from some rich offworlder who visited Tatooine to laugh at the way the locals lived. Sanghyuk couldn’t stand that sort of attitude so he’d waited until the man went into the cantina and made off with his speeder, and he’s glad he did; it’s incredibly fast and agile, and relatively new, too. Leaning low over the handlebars, he zooms off towards the house, wishing he had a better reason than this to be returning home at midday. He’d even packed himself lunch, which is absolutely useless now.

When he blows up to the house, turning off the bike and clambering off it, he notes that everything is just as he left it this morning. There’s no other speeder parked anywhere. How in the hell did they get here, then? Sanghyuk’s place is a while away from Anchorhead and there are no taxi routes that land anywhere nearby. He hopes they didn’t walk and he’s about to enter and see two dead Jedi who don’t know shit about heat stroke.

Instead when he waltzes in, tugging off his bandana and goggles but keeping his belt on, he sees the two of them sitting uncomfortably on his lounge, cups of weak tea in their hands. Sanghyuk winces. C2N2 is good at keeping the house and its surrounds clean, but he’s absolutely _awful_ at making tea. They look just as he imagined they would, wearing simple brown robes over their white tunics, lightsabers dangling at their belts. The older one—though not by much, Sanghyuk can tell—has two lightsabers, while the younger one with the funny hair (short but with one long, thin braid on the right side) only has one. Sanghyuk shivers at the sight of them. He’s not Force-sensitive, or at least not enough to be shipped off to the Academy, but even he can sense the power that they wield.

The older one spots him and stands up, his face a blank mask. The younger one, though, gives Sanghyuk a wide grin as the other one starts talking. “Hello, Sanghyuk. I’m Taekwoon, and this is my padawan, Hongbin.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk deadpans, folding his arms over his chest and resisting the urge to rest his hands on his blasters. He has only the vaguest idea of what a padawan is, but he doesn’t really care enough to ask. The sooner this conversation is over the better. “Nice to meet you and all that crap. What are you doing here?”

For a moment Sanghyuk thinks he sees a glimmer of a smile at the corner of Taekwoon’s mouth, but then it’s gone again. “Straight to business, I see,” he replies, his voice smooth and even. It’s rather nice to listen to, actually. “Very well. I understand there was an incident a few weeks ago involving you and a Sith.”

He’d _known_ that’s what they were here for, but still, to hear it confirmed dashes every hope that Sanghyuk had that this was just a friendly visit. He collapses heavily into the chair across from them and kicks his boots up onto the table, spraying sand everywhere. “Yeah? Where’d you hear that?” he replies nonchalantly.

Taekwoon waves a hand in the air. “Tell me what happened.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sanghyuk picks at his nails disinterestedly, looking up at the two Jedi. “Nice try. Your mind tricks don’t work on me. Wanna try that again?”

That does get a reaction out of Taekwoon—he looks pained, and Sanghyuk takes slight pleasure in driving him up the wall a bit. “Please cooperate with us, Sanghyuk.”

It’s not like he has anything spectacular to hide, anyway. He’s still alive. That’s more than most can say when they get into spats with Sith. In fact he’s relatively sure he only got away with it because the Sith was distracted by the drunk who had stumbled out of the cantina, allowing Sanghyuk just enough time to escape with his prize. So he shrugs. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

Hongbin, who hasn’t said a word so far, pipes up. “Just what happened, really.”

Sanghyuk slumps even further down in the chair. “Okay. I was at the cantina in Anchorhead, getting drunk, because there’s nothing else to do on this pisshole of a planet. I got into a fight with someone so they threw me out…” he catches Taekwoon’s raised eyebrows and Hongbin’s smirk and resists the urge to fire a warning shot into the ceiling. “It happens a lot. Anyway, I was on my way home when someone bumped into me and sent me sprawling to the ground. I was still tipsy at that point, which is probably why I shot him. Or shot _at_ him. I missed, obviously, and he whirled around and yanked his hood off and I saw his yellow eyes and knew I was probably going to die. I shot at him again, knocked his lightsaber off, dove for it.”

“Do you know how to use a lightsaber?” Taekwoon interrupts.

“Not a clue,” Sanghyuk replies, shaking his head. “But I snagged it and turned it on. He started doing some weird lightning stuff with his hands so I swiped at him. He dodged it, of course, and then some _other_ drunk stumbled out of the cantina and into him. This was all happening right in front of the doors, I forgot to add. He turned to shoot lightning at them, I think, so I ran.”

There’s a moment of silence where the two Jedi look at them, and Sanghyuk doesn’t have to be Force-sensitive to read the skepticism all over their faces. “You ran? And you got _away?_ ” Hongbin asks, his eyes narrowed.

Sitting up, Sanghyuk shrugs. “I went into the desert for a week. Didn’t come home, didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I figured he’d have no chance of finding me there. By the time I’d come back he’d left the planet.”

“Leaving you with his lightsaber,” Taekwoon points out.

Wordlessly, Sanghyuk hauls himself out of his chair and heads into his bedroom, dropping to the floor and fumbling under the bed for the lightsaber he’d wrapped in a square of fabric and shoved there. Out of sight, out of mind was his rationale, except it hadn’t worked, and he’d often pulled it out and turned it on when he was lying in bed unable to sleep. He couldn’t seem to get the Sith’s yellow-orange eyes out of his head, and the red of his lightsaber just seemed to hammer that point home. When Sanghyuk walks back into the living room, the lightsaber in his hands, Taekwoon makes a gesture and the hilt zooms out of his hands, across the room, for Taekwoon to catch it neatly. Now _that’s_ a cool trick.

“You’ve got what you wanted,” Sanghyuk deadpans, his hands on his hips. “You can go now. Right?”

Taekwoon softens slightly. “It’s not quite as simple as that, I’m afraid. By taking this you’ve put a target on your back, not just by the Sith you stole it from but from all the Sith he is allied with. To steal someone’s lightsaber is a grave offence.”

Oh.

Sanghyuk didn’t know that. In fact, had he known that, he almost certainly wouldn’t have stolen it from the Sith. That one had been scary enough; he doesn’t want to deal with any more. All of a sudden the excitement he’d been craving all these years seems very dangerous and not very exciting at all, and he wishes he could turn back the clock and stay as he was, just a simple wind farmer with no friends. It sucked, sure, but it was _easy_. “What are my options?” he asks, sagging slightly.

“You can stay here and risk the Sith coming back for his lightsaber, which is almost certainly going to happen,” Taekwoon says, taking a step towards Sanghyuk and wrapping a hand around his bicep comfortingly, keeping him upright. The Jedi’s touch is cold on his arm, and he resists the urge to shiver. “I don’t think you will survive that, even though you are an exceptionally good shot, from what I’ve heard.”

“Or?” Sanghyuk prompts, staring into Taekwoon’s eyes, trying to read whatever he can.

“Or, you could come with us. We could relocate you to another planet. Call it… witness protection,” Taekwoon jokes.

A Jedi telling jokes. Now _that’s_ a first. Just like Sanghyuk suspected, he’s terrible at them, but he smiles weakly. A chance to get off Tatooine? This is what he’s been hoping for his entire life, but he wishes it had come under better circumstances than this. He even has a small savings fund set up for exactly that, although he has to keep dipping into it to do various repairs on the windmills scattered around the property and as such it keeps dwindling. Hell, he’s never even _been_ offworld. He’d tried once, when he was eight, but the smuggler had caught him and thrown him off her ship gently. She’d been a Twi’lek—he remembers that because there are so few of them on Tatooine. He’d tugged on her lekku and she’d winced.

Shaking his head, he looks between Taekwoon and Hongbin doubtfully. “Do I have a choice?”

“With Jedi? Always,” Hongbin replies. “But the Sith? Not so much.”

Sanghyuk knows what he’s going to do, but he shoos them out and asks them to return tomorrow to hear his decision. They obey, Taekwoon taking the lightsaber with him and thanking Sanghyuk for his hospitality, but Sanghyuk’s not sure weak tea and a lumpy sofa counts as hospitality. The moment they’re gone he takes off his belt and hangs it near the door, where it belongs, and traipses into his bedroom to collapse face-down onto the bed without bothering to take his shoes off.

“Master?” C2N2 asks nervously, following Sanghyuk into his bedroom and hovering near the door. “Will you be going back outside? Do you need me to do anything?”

Groaning into his pillow, Sanghyuk rolls over to glare at the droid. “No, C2.”

Obediently, the droid trots away, and Sanghyuk stares out at the blank wall. He knows that he needs to leave, because he actually enjoys living and knows that he won’t be doing much of it if the Sith catches him, but at the same time he has suddenly developed an attachment to Tatooine. He was born here, after all, and it’s the only planet he’s ever known; even if he’s hated it for as long as he can remember, it’s still home. The thought of flying off into space is both fascinating and terrifying all at once, although at least if he’s doing it it’s with Jedi. There’s nowhere safer to be.

Hauling himself off the bed, he kicks off his boots into a corner of the room and surveys his possessions with his hands on his hips. He doesn’t have much of value. Living a life scraping by, never having a proper roof over your head, tends to encourage thriftiness. All he needs is his armour and his blasters and he’s set… But he should at least tidy up, and leave the house neat for whoever ends up in it next.

That night, he hops on his speeder and makes the journey into Anchorhead, sitting himself down for a game of sabacc with the title deed to the property in his hand. He certainly isn’t going to need it anymore, and this is the way it got passed onto him, so it’s only fair that this is how it leaves his hands, too. As he gets steadily more and more drunk and, therefore, more and more sloppy, he tries to ignore the weird, dull ache in his chest that rears its head whenever he thinks of leaving home.

//

“So this is a starship, huh?” Sanghyuk murmurs, dropping his bag on the floor and staring around him in wonderment.

Taekwoon is watching him, a blank expression on his face, but Hongbin is smiling widely. When they’d come to fetch him in the morning (he’s _still_ not sure how they got there without a speeder, but they’d all clambered on the back of Sanghyuk’s bike and he’d carted them into town that way), Sanghyuk had found out that Hongbin was only two years older than him, and he seems happy to have someone around who isn’t Taekwoon. When they’d got to the spaceport Sanghyuk had just stopped and stared at the ship in awe. It wasn’t actually that big, but it seemed huge, shaped vaguely like a T and looking almost like a hammerhead shark, painted in faded red with white stripes.

“Let me show you your quarters,” Hongbin blurts, grabbing Sanghyuk by the arm and dragging him along, the metal floor clacking beneath their feet.

Sanghyuk’s quarters turn out to be right next to the hyperdrive, which doesn’t make noise when it’s not in use, Hongbin assures him. The room is small, but it’s clean and there’s no sand anywhere, something he never could escape on Tatooine. The whole ship gives off a certain cold, clinical air, with clean metal floors and pleasant cream walls that hum with a mysterious energy when Sanghyuk runs his hand along them. It’s a distinct contrast to the exterior of the ship, and he wonders if that’s intentional.

“Don’t worry about Master Taekwoon.” Hongbin fiddles with his sleeve as Sanghyuk chucks his bag on the bed. “He’s a little… shy. And quiet. But he means well. He wouldn’t have taken you with us if he didn’t like you.”

That makes Sanghyuk feel better, but not by much, so he just offers Hongbin a small smile and follows him back down the hallway, turning left and going up some stairs, opening up into the bridge of the ship. There’s flashing panels as far as the eye can see, and in the middle of the bridge, in front of a chair, is a map of the galaxy. A flashing dot indicates their current position, in the Outer Rim, and Sanghyuk resists the urge to touch everything he sees. “Shouldn’t you have a crew?”

Hongbin shrugs as he hauls himself into the seat and makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, enlarging the map so that it’s now three meters across. “Master Taekwoon prefers to work alone. We pilot the ship together.”

Sanghyuk raises an eyebrow but says nothing as Taekwoon walks in, leaning over Hongbin and flicking switches, his mouth pressed into a line. He’s barely said two words to Sanghyuk all day, and all he gets is a definite air of displeasure from him. Instead of watching the two work, because he feels kind of creepy hovering over their shoulders, he moves around in front of the console so he’s peering out the glass, looking down onto the ground. They’re still parked in a hangar bay in Anchorhead, although by the sounds of the engines powering up behind him, not for long.

“So… Where are you taking me?” Sanghyuk murmurs, leaning forward to breathe on the glass and drawing a random squiggle in the fog.

When he looks back, Taekwoon has one hand on Hongbin’s shoulder, and is looking intensely down at the panel in front of him. Hongbin has one hand wrapped around the yoke—which is surprisingly primitive looking, for a ship this large and modern—and the other on the throttles, which he’s pushing forward. “Tython,” Taekwoon mutters, and Sanghyuk frowns.

He knows about Tython, although only vaguely; the only holonet terminals are in town, and he hates loitering around there for longer than necessary. _Hated_. He never has to bother with Anchorhead again. The Jedi Order withdrew to Tython when the Empire sacked Coruscant eight years ago, and as far as Sanghyuk understands it’s where new Jedi are trained. He sort of understands Taekwoon’s reasoning—there’s nowhere else he’ll be safer than the seat of the Order—but he doesn’t know if he likes it. He could have been heading to Hoth, or Alderaan, or any of the other exotic worlds he’d read about. Shrugging, he turns back to look out the glass again, staggering as the ship lurches as they lift off. There’s certainly worse places to go than Tython.

He peers outside as, slowly, Hongbin rotates the ship and steers them outside and up, pushing into the atmosphere. From here Sanghyuk can’t see the planet retreating behind them, he can only see the stars, stretched out in front of him, and it feels weirdly appropriate.

“Power up the hyperdrive,” Taekwoon murmurs from behind him.

Space is insanely beautiful. He never realised that before, because all he knew was the two suns and the three moons of Tatooine. But now he can see other ships in the distance, just specks, as well as the stars blanketing the sky. The inky blackness beckons to him, and he finds himself pressed up against the glass, resting his forehead against it as he peers out. From this far away he can’t really see if the other ships are Republic or not; the one closest to him, heading sort of in their direction, looks vaguely familiar. It’s possible he could have seen it on the holonet somewhere, because it’s really big—way bigger than the ship he’s currently on. In fact, as Sanghyuk watches, it starts getting closer alarmingly fast and he realises it’s heading right for them.

“Guys?” he says, not really knowing if that’s the right term to address them but really caring, either. “You might want to…”

“Hyperdrive prepped at 90 per cent,” Hongbin says, and Taekwoon hums a noise of agreement.

Sanghyuk’s eyes widen as the ship speeds towards them. It’s not on a collision course, but it’s going to pass right in front of them with barely any room to spare. “Guys,” he says, a little more urgently this time, since they don’t seem to be listening. “Look…”

The ship passes in front of them, casting a shadow across the cockpit, and the two Jedi look up right in time to see a compartment in the side of the ship open, emitting a beam of light. “Tractor beam!” Hongbin yells, before they’re all flung forward violently as the ship grinds to a halt.

Sanghyuk smacks his head on the glass and topples over backwards, and Hongbin ends up next to him because he goes sailing straight over the console. When Sanghyuk comes back to himself he realises he’s got blood dripping down his forehead and the ship is slowly being dragged into the belly of the other, bigger ship. Taekwoon looks as serene as ever, having rode out the wave with a grace that the other two don’t possess, but his face snaps into an expression of alarm when Sanghyuk staggers to his feet, blood running into his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Taekwoon gasps, using the sleeve of his robe to wipe the blood away. It’s kind of scratchy against Sanghyuk’s face, but he doesn’t mind, not when Taekwoon is finally looking at him instead of straight through him. “One moment.”

Sanghyuk watches in amazement as Taekwoon closes his eyes and hovers his hand above the gash, not quite touching but close enough so that he can feel the heat of his skin. His brow furrows slightly, and his lips turn down at the corners, and with a rush of heat and tingling, focused on his forehead, Taekwoon heals him.

“Woah,” Sanghyuk murmurs, clapping a hand against his forehead. There’s no wound there. There’s not even a scar. “I didn’t know Jedi could do _that.”_

Taekwoon grasps Sanghyuk’s chin and turns his head back and forth, and Sanghyuk represses a shiver. “We have our secrets,” he murmurs, and winks.

With a horrible grinding sound, the ship slams to a halt once more, this time inside the other ship. All Sanghyuk can see out the window is darkness, and realises he has more important things to worry about than a forehead wound. What if this is the Sith, coming for him already? It didn’t look like an Imperial ship, but it could have been disguised. Taekwoon must pick up on his fear, because he chucks Sanghyuk under the chin and smiles at him. It’s a smile that says _trust me_ , and Sanghyuk does, even though the rational part of his brain is telling him that he doesn’t have a choice.

“Master?” Hongbin begins, “what are we going—”

He’s cut off by a loud _bang_ at the doors, and Sanghyuk’s hands go for his blasters automatically. It’s just a reflex, really; after living as long as he has on as shitty a planet as Tatooine, he’s picked up certain survival instincts. Taekwoon’s face goes hard, and he steps back, glaring in the direction of the doors. There’s another bang, and then another quite soon after that, and then the noise of whirring; with a shock Sanghyuk realises they (whoever this ‘they’ is) are cutting open the doors. They must be that desperate to get to them.

“Hongbin,” Taekwoon says, and whatever tone of voice he used is serious enough that Hongbin picks up his lightsaber from his belt and turns it on, the green light illuminating the fear on his face.

Things happen very fast after that. The two Jedi move so they’re on either side of the door, wincing at the sparks flying out, and Taekwoon draws his lightsabers. They’re a beautiful deep purple colour, and Sanghyuk realises he’s never seen a purple lightsaber before. Before he’d stolen the Sith’s he’d never even seen one in real life, but the ones on the holonet were always green or blue or red. The purple suits Taekwoon, though, and Sanghyuk realises he’s spent too long admiring them to move and is now a sitting duck right as the doors screech open and a figure wearing Mandalorian armour appears in the gap. He doesn’t get very far, because Taekwoon and Hongbin’s lightsabers cross, very nearly searing off his face. But Sanghyuk sees, and he drops his blasters in complete shock. Not _him_. Not now. What the hell?

“Sanghyuk,” Wonshik says, peering over the lightsabers and grinning at Sanghyuk widely. “What a funny coincidence.”

Blushing, Sanghyuk scoops his blasters off the ground and holds them ready, aimed at Wonshik’s head. He never thought he’d see Wonshik again, and he didn’t really care if he did. No wonder the ship looked familiar. Wonshik was showing a hologram of it to everyone in the damn cantina, boasting about how it was the fastest in the Outer Rim. He’d blown in and out of town fast, as spacers tended to do, and Sanghyuk had largely forgotten about him, although it had taken him a while. With all his armour on, Wonshik looks quite different; his tattoos are hidden, and he looks almost pedestrian—apart from his electric blue hair, of course. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He can feel Taekwoon’s eyes on him as Wonshik laughs. “There’s a bounty on your head, and I’ve come to collect. I see I’ve met my match, though. No one told me you’d be with Jedi.”

“Do you know each other?” Taekwoon asks, looking between the two without moving his lightsabers.

“No,” Sanghyuk blurts, right as Wonshik says, “Yes.”

“We had an altercation,” Wonshik explains, and Sanghyuk grits his teeth and resists the urge to shoot Wonshik in the head. “It was fun.”

Taekwoon narrows his eyes at Sanghyuk, and he can practically read the Jedi’s thoughts. He’s entirely disapproving of Sanghyuk getting in fights, as evidenced by the way he purses his lips, but Sanghyuk feels like this one was just.

_The spacer was annoying Sanghyuk._

_That really wasn’t hard to do. Most spacers walked around with a certain swagger in their step, looking down upon those who were relegated to living life on the surface. This one in particular, though, was being extremely irritating—he was waltzing around the cantina showing off a holo of his ship that he’d apparently just bought to everyone and anyone. He was pretty, for a spacer, with tattoos all up and down his arms and on his neck, and bright blue hair that was so luminescent it practically glowed. Sanghyuk, who was seated at the bar nursing his Tatooine Sunset (the stupidest name for a drink ever conceived, but it was delicious), kept exchanging looks with Elav, the bartender. It wasn’t until the spacer stumbled up to Sanghyuk and leaned on his shoulder that Sanghyuk’s patience snapped, and he punched the spacer directly in the face._

_“What the fuck?” the spacer spluttered from the floor, wiping at the blood that was dripping down his nose. “What’s your problem?”_

_The cantina was silent, apart from the music, which continued merrily on, adding a rather joyful soundtrack to the whole encounter. “No one cares about your damn ship,” Sanghyuk said, narrowing his eyes at the spacer. “No one cares that you think you’re better than us. Get out of here.”_

_He could feel the silent approval from the other locals in the bar as the spacer slowly got to his feet. There was a long, long moment where they just regarded each other, hands twitching by their blasters, and then before Sanghyuk could move the spacer slammed into him with a roar, tackling him to the ground. He only had a moment to breathe before the spacer started waling on him, his punches hitting him hard and fast. His arms were trapped underneath the spacer’s thighs, so he couldn’t reach for his blasters—_

_“Enough!” Elav roared. He was a huge man, built like a house, and he picked the both of them up with ease, striding to the door and throwing them out onto the sand unceremoniously. “Kill each other outside.”_

_The two of them just regarded each other for a moment before Sanghyuk leapt for the man again. It was childish of him to be rolling around in the sand with a stranger, pulling hair and jabbing, but at the same time he didn’t care enough to stop. The spacer put up a good fight, anyway, and by the time they wrestled each other to their feet they were both panting heavily._

_“You fight pretty good,” the spacer said, the unspoken implication evident: ‘...for someone who hasn’t even left the planet.’_

_“Yeah,” Sanghyuk said after a moment, before extending his hand to the stranger slowly, a peace offering. “What’s your name?”_

_“Wonshik,” the spacer replied, taking Sanghyuk’s hand._

_He saw the smirk flit across Wonshik’s face before he could process what was happening, but then Wonshik pulled him in close, whirled, and shoved him up against the wall of the cantina, waving his blaster in Sanghyuk’s face. He nearly swore. This spacer was_ fast _, even as intoxicated as he was. Normally Sanghyuk was able to take them easily, but he feared he may’ve met his match. “Get off me,” he said gruffly as he tried to push Wonshik away to no avail._

_“Learn some manners, sand-rat,” Wonshik said, tracing the barrel of his blaster gently down Sanghyuk’s cheek. Sanghyuk resisted the urge to shiver._

_“Get_ off _me, you pompous bastard. Go back to space. Go back to telling everyone how great you are,” he growled, a warning in his eyes._

_Wonshik leant in even closer, so that his breath (smelling like spiced rum) wafted across Sanghyuk’s face. It’s that that made Sanghyuk realise just what a compromising position they were in, and perhaps that’s why his heart started racing. He didn’t know if Wonshik heard it, but he smirked anyway, and Sanghyuk hated to admit that a smirk looked good on his face. “Go back to picking fights in cantinas for a bit of excitement in your shitty life,” Wonshik whispered into his ear, brushing his lips down Sanghyuk’s neck._

Woah _. Sanghyuk splayed his hands on Wonshik’s chest and shoved before drawing both his blasters quick as a snake, aiming one at Wonshik’s head, one at his chest. “This conversation is over,” he told Wonshik, his face grim._

_Wonshik shrugged and holstered his blaster, holding his hands in the air. “Hey, it’s your life,” he replied, and without another word turned and walked back into the cantina, leaving Sanghyuk with his blasters pointing at nothing, a pounding heart, and a really dry mouth._

Shaking his head, Sanghyuk snaps back to the present, readjusting the grip on his blasters and sneering at Wonshik. “Yeah. You were an asshole. I put you in your place. That’s it.”

He can feel Taekwoon’s disapproval washing over him in waves, but Sanghyuk is not a Jedi. Violence is a part of life on Tatooine, and it’s why he’s been sleeping with a vibroknife under his pillow since he was twelve, and never leaves the house without his blasters strapped to his hips. There are some things in life that are easily solved by shooting first and asking questions later.

“Who hired you?” Taekwoon asks, turning his attention back to Wonshik.

Lowering his blasters and taking a step back so he’s not at quite as much risk of having his face burnt off, Wonshik shrugs. “Some Sith called Hakyeon. Said his Master wanted the kid dead and the lightsaber he stole returned to him.”

Taekwoon and Hongbin lower their lightsabers in sync, and Sanghyuk wonders if they can communicate telepathically. Might be one of those Jedi things. He barely knows anything about them, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility. “Did he say who his Master was?” Hongbin says. By the way Taekwoon’s grimacing, Sanghyuk can take a guess.

“Nope,” Wonshik shrugs, shouldering in through the gap in the doors. The Jedi take a step back, but they can obviously sense he means no harm because they let him in. “He was probably another Sith Lord, though, maybe even a Darth. Most of my contracts are.” He turns his attention to Sanghyuk, and raises an eyebrow. “What the hell did you do to attract the ire of a Sith? You didn’t try and beat him up, did you? You really need to get that anger problem under control.”

His face blank, Sanghyuk raises his blaster slightly and fires, aiming just over Wonshik’s head and hitting the ceiling. The bounty hunter ducks, but Taekwoon’s eyes narrow, and with a hand gesture Sanghyuk’s blasters are ripped out of his hands, sailing to opposite ends of the ship. “See what I mean?” Wonshik murmurs, winking at Sanghyuk.

“How did you find him?” Hongbin looks grim and determined, and Sanghyuk has to repress a shudder. He’s kind of glad they’re on the same side.

Wonshik turns his back on Sanghyuk to reply, and Sanghyuk resists the urge to punch him in the back of the head, only because he’s not entirely sure Taekwoon won’t pick _him_ up and send him flying into a wall. Jedi are against violence, but everyone has a breaking point. “It’s incredibly easy to track someone who doesn’t bother to hide who they are. I got a tip-off from one of my contacts he was escaping on this ship, and intercepted you. Easy.”

“I’ve heard enough. Get out of here, bounty hunter,” Taekwoon deadpans. He sounds almost bored. “Tell the Sith you failed. Tell him you found the child dead in the desert.”

Sanghyuk bristles, and opens his mouth to tell them that he’s nineteen, not a child, but Wonshik shakes his head. “Yeah, like a Sith is gonna believe that, _especially_ if I turn up without a body. If you give me the lightsaber, though, it might get him off your back...”

Wonshik is just as crafty as he looks. They all know the lightsaber won’t get the Sith off Sanghyuk’s back. He knows about as much about Sith as he does about Jedi, but everything he’s read indicates they’re all basically blood-thirsty crazies intent on destroying everyone and everything that gets in their way. Forgiveness is not in the Sith code. But if Wonshik comes back empty handed with news of two Jedi protecting his target, his life is in danger. If he at least brings the lightsaber, his chances of survival are increased, if the Sith has any sense of kindness left. Sanghyuk can read the warring emotions on Taekwoon’s face, but he reluctantly unhooks the Sith’s lightsaber from his belt and hands it over. Hongbin glares at him, but when Taekwoon looks at Sanghyuk he can see the decision was easy for him to make. Jedi want to avoid innocent lives being extinguished as much as possible… Even if Wonshik isn’t exactly innocent.

“Glad to do business with you,” Wonshik says cheerily, throwing the lightsaber up into the air and catching it deftly. Right before he ducks out of the door, he turns to wink at Sanghyuk once more, smiling widely at him. “See you later, sand-rat.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t stay to ask the Jedi how they’re going to fix the door. He doesn’t even collect his blasters. With a noise of disgust he stomps down the hallway into the room he’s been allocated and flops onto the bed dramatically, groaning into the pillow that smells like antiseptic. He’d been so excited about getting off the planet only to have drama rear its head when he’d only been in space for ten minutes, and finds himself longing for the relative safety of Tatooine again. Sure, it sucked, but Sanghyuk knew Anchorhead in and out. He knew how to survive in the desert for months on end. He knew which officials to bribe, who was best at sabacc, where the best place was to get new gas chambers for his blasters. Out here he feels very small and insignificant indeed, like he doesn’t matter at all. It’s a feeling he thought he’d banished. He doesn’t like it one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Hongbin finds him the next morning (or, next four hours, since that’s about how long Sanghyuk sleeps), curled up in an observation port on the starboard side of the ship. When he’d woken up he’d wandered around the ship, deliberately avoiding the bridge because he knew that’s where the Jedi were, before finding this little spot in a corner. It’s warm, here, and he needs to cling to all the warmth he can find. Space is cold, and Tatooine was hot; he’s not used to it. He’s sitting there, his arms wrapped around his knees, watching the stars drift past and trying not to think when the Jedi flops himself down on the seat in front of him, waving something in his face.

“Hungry?” Hongbin asks.

Sanghyuk hasn’t really thought about food, but the moment Hongbin mentions it he’s suddenly famished, and takes the food he’s offered. It’s a bar, and when he unwraps it out of its plain white packaging he finds it looks entirely nondescript and harmless. Just like the muesli bars he used to buy at the markets back home, actually, only this is heavier and when he bites into it it tastes like nothing he’s ever tasted before; strangely sweet and salty at the same time, which sounds wrong on paper but works in reality. If Sanghyuk had to guess, he’d assume it was made on Coruscant or Tython or something, specially formulated for Jedi. They sit in silence for a while as Sanghyuk eats, Hongbin resting his forehead against the glass of the porthole and closing his eyes. He looks tranquil, radiating with a peace that comes from within. Sanghyuk wonders if he can feel it because that’s just what Jedi feel like to everyone, or if because he’s Force-sensitive. He’s always wondered, but never had anyone to ask.

“Yes,” Hongbin says, opening his eyes and looking at Sanghyuk with a raised eyebrow. “You are.”

Oh. Well, then. Sanghyuk gapes at Hongbin, aware he’s still got a mouthful of half-chewed space bar (which is what he’s called the food, in his head, because it seems weirdly appropriate) in his mouth. “How did you—” he begins, before cutting himself off and shaking his head. Jedi can’t read minds, at least as far as Sanghyuk knows, but he knows they can feel emotions. He wears his heart on his sleeve, so it’s not really a surprise Hongbin can pick them up. “Am I really?”

“Yeah. If we’d found you when you were young you might be a Padawan yourself,” Hongbin replies, reaching out to snag the last piece of the space bar, popping it in his mouth and grinning as Sanghyuk glares at him. “But as it is, it just manifests weakly in you now.”

“So I can’t become a Jedi?” asks Sanghyuk, feeling vaguely disappointed even though that’s not something he ever wanted for himself.

Hongbin shrugs. “Dunno. Probably not? We start our training when we’re kids. The most you could probably do is coin tricks.”

“Teach me,” Sanghyuk commands.

For a moment Hongbin just stares at him, and Sanghyuk thinks he won’t do it. But then he pulls out a credit chip from some fold in his robe (the storage possibilities with those robes, Sanghyuk is finding, are endless) and levitates it in his palm, making it spin slowly with a twitch of his fingers. Sanghyuk watches wide-eyed, slightly in awe with how easy it is for Hongbin to do that, before Hongbin plucks the chip from mid-air and slaps it in Sanghyuk’s hand, curling his fingers around it. “Your turn,” he tells Sanghyuk with an easy grin.

Sanghyuk thought it would be simple. It’s just one lousy credit chip, after all. It weighs barely nothing. And yet he stares at it until he feels like it’s about to burst into flame from the weight of his gaze, and it does nothing. He holds his breath and strains, trying to picture the chip lifting off his palm, and nothing happens. He tries with his other hand, the back of his hand, the top of his head. He tries throwing the chip up in the air and freezing it, copying the movements Taekwoon made when he ripped Sanghyuk’s blasters from his hands. Nothing. The chip stays stubbornly nesting in his palm, and after ten minutes he gets sick of it and flings it away, which Hongbin finds hilarious.

“Being a Jedi is all about patience.” Hongbin leans over to pat Sanghyuk on the head condescendingly.

They’re only two years apart, so Sanghyuk jerks his head back and scowls. _“That’s_ why I couldn’t be a Jedi. Not because you guys couldn’t find me. Patience is not my forte.”

“I’ve gathered,” replies Hongbin, dryly.

He leaves Sanghyuk alone for a bit after that. Another good thing about Jedi is that they can sense when one wants to be left alone, and his failure with the chip has put him in a foul mood. It’s not like he can wander off into the desert, either, like he did back at home. Instead he hauls himself out of his seat and starts pacing the length of the ship, chewing his lip absentmindedly and trying desperately to resist the awful feelings of claustrophobia that threaten to overwhelm him. This damn ship is so cold and clinical, and everywhere you go there’s the awful humming sound of the engines—it’s threatening to drive him insane, and he’s only been on here for less than a day. He wonders how long they have to go until Tython, even if the thought of being thrust onto a world where he knows no-one is more paralysing than being on this ship.

He makes a turn and runs smack-bang into Taekwoon, who has appeared behind him silently, worry written all over his face. He’s holding one of Sanghyuk’s blasters in each hand, albeit at arm’s length, which makes Sanghyuk’s mood lift a little. Taekwoon has no issues wielding two lightsabers, but present him with two blasters and he’s lost. “Here,” he says, and thrusts the blasters towards Sanghyuk.

It’s kind of cute, actually. Alarm bells start ringing in his head at that—Jedi are not _cute_ , especially not Taekwoon, whose resting, neutral expression looks like he’s about to convert to the dark side—but Sanghyuk ignores them (he always has) and takes the blasters and holsters them. They feel right, on his hips; he always feels weirdly crippled without them, like a limb is missing. Now if he could just find something to combat this cold he would be able to start feeling like himself again. He could put on his armour, but that’s cumbersome and he would look stupid. So instead he shoulders past Taekwoon to resume his pacing, wrapping his arms around himself and dropping his head so he looks like he’s trekking through the desert rather than a Republic ship.

“Are you cold?” Taekwoon asks quietly.

Not for the first time, Sanghyuk wonders how Taekwoon can be so contradictory; he’s so soft-spoken and worried, but Sanghyuk had seen the look on his face when Wonshik had tried to board, and it was terrifying. It’s almost like he’s two different people. “No, I’m fine,” he replies sarcastically. “I’m not used to the desert, or anything. This air conditioning is _great.”_

He goes to turn his back on Taekwoon but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, and before he can even protest Taekwoon has wrapped his scratchy brown overrobe around his shoulders. It’s warm, even if it’s itchy everywhere it touches him, but it smells so much like Taekwoon he has to freeze and breathe out slowly. _Woah_. This is what getting a hug from Taekwoon would feel like, he suspects; warm, pleasant, but slightly prickly at the same time. It suits him perfectly, and he turns around and raises an eyebrow at the Jedi, feeling both slightly ridiculous and grateful at the same time. “Wow. Next you’ll be giving me your lightsaber.” He gestures to where Taekwoon’s lightsabers nestle on his belt. “You have two. Surely you can donate one to the needy.”

There it is, a glimmer of a smile on Taekwoon’s face, and Sanghyuk knows that’s a rare sight. It makes him feel proud, that smile, and he hugs himself a little tighter, pleased. “Sure. If I get one of these,” Taekwoon replies, sliding his hand down Sanghyuk’s waist to grab one of his blasters.

 _Oh_. The touch sends a shiver up Sanghyuk’s spine, and he wonders if Taekwoon feels the same way, because his eyes are wide as he presses one of his lightsabers into Sanghyuk’s hand. They both look like fools, standing there with one of each weapon, and Sanghyuk grips the hilt of the lightsaber lightly. When he’d had the Sith’s lightsaber, he’d tried carving up some scrap metal one day, outside so he didn’t set anything in the house on fire with the sparks. The ease of which the blade went through the metal—like a hot knife through butter—alarmed him, and he hadn’t used it on anything else since then. Which is why he’s holding Taekwoon’s lightsaber the way Taekwoon is holding his blaster: warily. Not that his blasters are anything to be scared of. They’re such an extension of himself now that their grip is often warm, like an old friend’s hand.

He swallows, and wraps his fingers around the lightsaber, trying to ignore the way the skin on his waist is hot where Taekwoon had touched him. “Watch out. Hongbin told me I was Force-sensitive. Next you know I’ll be a Jedi like you,” he murmurs, trying to diffuse the situation with some light humour and falling flat on his face.

“Doubt it,” Taekwoon replies coldly, plucking his lightsaber out of Sanghyuk’s hand and slapping the blaster there instead. “We’ll be in Tython by tomorrow.”

Before Sanghyuk can say another word, the Jedi whirls around and stalks off, around the corner towards where Hongbin had pointed out his quarters. He’s left standing there with Taekwoon’s robe still wrapped around his shoulders and a stupid expression on his face as he tries to comprehend what just happened. Taekwoon and he had been—well, they’d been flirting. He might be pretty inexperienced with such matters (sad to say that Wonshik pressing him up against the cantina and breathing down his neck is the closest he’s got to _anything)_ , but that was unmistakable. And then… Taekwoon had just shut down. All the emotion in his face had gone, replaced with that awful cold expression that just reminds Sanghyuk of the inside of the ship, and he’d walked away without a backwards glance. He wanders away in the opposite direction in a slight daze, clutching his blaster with both hands, just the way Taekwoon put it there. He’s not quite sure what he did to deserve that rebuke, and he’s so tired and cold and confused he feels vaguely sick.

In the end he makes his way down to the lower deck of the ship—that no one even told him existed—where it’s warmer, mainly because it’s where the engines and computers are housed, and curls up in a corner somewhere to fall asleep. He’s still tired, and he’s still confused, but at least he’s not cold, and as he drifts off all he can smell is Taekwoon surrounding him.

//

When he wakes, for the second time on the strange ship, he’s back in his own bed again. He realises one of the others must have carried him here, and when he tries to sit up he finds that the sheets are tucked in tightly around him, cocooning him in a ball of warmth. Taekwoon’s robe is draped over him like a blanket, and he balls his fists in the fabric, staring down at the two space bars and the bottle of water that are resting on the end of the bed. He reaches for one and unwraps it slowly, biting into it as he slowly blinks into awareness. Considering he feels overtired, he guesses he slept for a while this time. It’s probably good. It’s probably a sign he’s starting to get used to the ship.

When he gets up, he grabs a change of clothes from his bag, reluctantly undoes his belt and drops it on the bed, and trots off to the tiny bathroom that Hongbin had shown him. Once there, he strips off and stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, noting the hint of stubble that’s beginning to appear on his chin and wishing he’d bought a razor (something he completely forgot about), before turning on the water and marvelling. The water on Tatooine was either scalding hot or ice-cold, depending on the time of day, and so when he steps in to find that this shower has adjusted the temperature of the water to be just right, he almost wishes he’d found a way off Tatooine sooner. There’s a dispenser in the wall for soap that activates when he waves his hand over it, and when he’s finished showering a long, robotic arm appears from the wall brandishing a towel, and he takes it warily. Soap on Tatooine was made with local plants (unless you could afford to buy the nice offworld soap that the smugglers brought in, which Sanghyuk couldn’t), and he didn’t even bother to use towels most of the time, since standing outside in the sun for three minutes would dry him off perfectly well, and it’s not like there was anyone around to see him.

Once he’s dressed and decent, his head feeling lighter after he’d excavated what seemed like a kilogram of sand from his hair, he heads back to his room to put on his blasters again. It’s ridiculous since they’re perfectly safe up here, he knows, but some stupid part of his brain refuses to go anywhere without them and another stupid part of his brain wants Taekwoon to touch him again, and the blasters seem to be a catalyst for that.

He finds them on the bridge, looking very serious as Hongbin flies the ship, Taekwoon pulling levers and pushing buttons in the seat next to him, but Hongbin looks up and smiles widely at him. “Morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?”

Taekwoon doesn’t even look up as Sanghyuk flops into the seat next to him. “Alright. Thanks for moving me. And for breakfast. How far away are we now?”

“The damage that bounty hunter did to our doors has slowed us down,” Hongbin explains, his nose wrinkling. “We can only make small hyperspace jumps. But we’re just a few parsecs away from making our next and last one.”

Sanghyuk sits and watches quietly as Taekwoon preps the hyperdrive engine, or at least what he assumes is the hyperdrive engine, his fingers flying over the buttons on the panels in front of him. It’s nice to listen to them quietly talking among themselves, even if he has no idea what they’re saying, and he tunes out until Taekwoon puts his hand on a big, important-looking lever and looks at Sanghyuk for what seems like the first time. “We’re about to make the jump into hyperspace. Would you like to do the honours?”

He doesn’t even hesitate, just puts his hand over Taekwoon’s on the lever and pushes it forward, trying desperately to ignore how soft Taekwoon’s hand is underneath his own, how badly he wants to curl his fingers around and make this even more intimate than it already is. Instead he keeps his eyes resolutely forward as the stars all around them blur backwards into lines, and then with a jolt they leap forward, the stars turning from lines to a faint pulsing, blue glow that reflects off each of their faces. “How long will this take?” he asks, sitting back and snatching his hand away from Taekwoon’s, cradling it in his lap like it’s been burnt.

“Only about five minutes,” Hongbin replies, sitting back in his chair and kicking his legs up on the dashboard, which earns him a disapproving tongue click from Taekwoon. “Master Taekwoon said he’d get you set up in the Jedi Temple. Pretty sweet gig if you ask me.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sanghyuk copies Hongbin and kicks his feet up on the dashboard, too.

Taekwoon huffs, and with a wave of his hand, knocks both of their legs sideways. Hongbin manages to stay in his seat, but Sanghyuk wasn’t expecting it and ends up sprawled on the floor. “I didn’t know Jedi were petty,” he mutters as he clambers slowly back into his seat, glaring at Taekwoon.

He expects a rebuke, and perhaps another hand wave, but instead that makes Taekwoon smile. Hongbin looks just as shocked as he does, particularly as Taekwoon snorts with laughter and leans forward to adjust a dial, biting his lip in an effort to not let the smile grow any larger. “It means,” Hongbin begins slowly, clearly not knowing what the hell his Master is doing, “that you’ll get to live there, and get to help the Jedi out with whatever they need. Just at the start, until you get on your feet.”

“An errand boy,” Sanghyuk deadpans. “You’re flying me across the galaxy to become an errand boy.”

Hongbin grins so wide his eyes disappear. “Yeah, but an errand boy for the _Jedi.”_

“Don’t make me shoot you,” warns Sanghyuk, unholstering one of his blasters and waving it absentmindedly, pretending to inspect it. An idle threat since he has no desire to shoot Hongbin at all, but it makes Hongbin giggle and it’s nice to listen to.

“Don’t make me confiscate that,” Taekwoon murmurs without looking at them, and with a twitch of his fingers, tugs at the blaster. It’s not enough to send it flying out of Sanghyuk’s hand, just enough for him to feel it, but he gets the message and stuffs it back in the holster anyway, rolling his eyes at Taekwoon as Hongbin snorts.

By the time he gets up to fetch the bottle of water on his bed and comes back to the bridge, Hongbin tells them they’re about to come out of hyperspace, and Sanghyuk stands back and watches as Taekwoon pulls back the lever they’d pushed together. With another jolt, he’s sent stumbling forward so his hand ends up on Taekwoon’s shoulder—but he’s too busy staring wide-eyed at the planet that’s just appeared in front of them to pay attention to that. He’s seen pictures of Tatooine from space, and it looked just like it does on the surface: dry and sandy. This planet, though, is green and blue, and Sanghyuk realises with a start that Tython has _seas_. He’s never seen naturally running water. Maybe he’ll even get to swim, if someone teaches him, and he doesn’t realise he’s digging his nails into Taekwoon’s shoulder with excitement until the Jedi yelps and cringes away from him.

“Oh, sorry!” he mumbles, snatching his hand away.

Taekwoon looks up at him and smiles, which is not what Sanghyuk was expecting. “It’s alright. I know you must be excited.”

He wonders what on earth Taekwoon’s life has been like so far that he is no longer excited by the sight of this, by the way the engines surge underneath his feet as Hongbin pushes in the throttles, by the way the planet looms up in front of them. Sanghyuk doesn’t know what life has in store for him—even Jedi can’t tell the future—but he never wants to become that jaded. Turning away from Taekwoon, he crosses in front of the console to flatten himself against the glass to watch as they descend through the atmosphere. “What’s Tython like?” he calls back over his shoulder as the glass begins to glow orange as the planet tries to burn them up.

“Grassy. Green. Lots of trees,” Hongbin replies. “We have a bit of an issue with the native species—Flesh Raiders, they’re called—and an illegal Twi’lek settlement, but overall it’s pretty peaceful. Very picturesque.”

“No sand?”

“No sand.”


	3. Chapter 3

It only takes a second for Sanghyuk to throw the remaining space bar in his bag, toss the water bottle on top of it, do it up and trot back to the bridge with it slung over his body. He brandishes Taekwoon’s robe at him, catching the Jedi’s eyes. “Thanks for this.”

“I’m glad it kept you warm,” Taekwoon says, smiling as he takes it and pulls it on. His face is so transformed when he smiles that Sanghyuk thinks he’ll never get sick of seeing it. “Do you have everything?”

“Everything I need.” Sanghyuk gestures to himself. He really only has the clothes on his back, the spare set in his bag, his armor, his holocom, and his blasters (and the credit chip he’d scooped up off the floor and tucked into his pocket so he could practice trying to move it with the Force).

Taekwoon opens his mouth and looks like he’s about to say something—he even takes a small step closer, putting him most deliberately in Sanghyuk’s orbit—but Hongbin walks into the room, fussing with his robe and hitting the button to open the airlock doors. “Come on. I’m dying for some proper food. If you got a protocol droid on this ship maybe we would be able to eat something nice for once.”

Reluctantly, Sanghyuk turns away from Taekwoon to follow Hongbin out into the airlock, sensing the Jedi following him. “I hate droids,” he mutters under his breath, and Hongbin looks at him with surprise.

He tries to argue, but then they spill out of the ship and into the sunlight, and as Sanghyuk traipses down the ramp and onto the ground—a whole ‘nother _planet!_ —he is paying no attention to whatever Hongbin is saying. Instead he’s closing his eyes and breathing deep, feeling foreign air fill his lungs. It’s not sandy and dry and hot, it’s pleasantly cold and moist, this is what humidity feels like, and Sanghyuk doesn’t know what to make of it. When he opens his eyes, he sees they’re in a spaceport, not dissimilar to the one on Anchorhead. This is smaller, though, and empty aside from them. He turns in a spot slowly, noting that the sky outside is a different shade of blue than Tatooine. He can see the tops of fir trees, swaying gently in the breeze, and finds himself grinning so wide it physically starts to hurt.

What he doesn’t notice is Taekwoon standing on the ramp watching him with a small smile on his face.

“Come on, you dork,” Hongbin chides, hooking an arm through his and dragging him away, towards an exit on the far wall. “We’ve landed directly in the Jedi Temple. Master Taekwoon will have to see the Council about you, but they’re expecting us. It’s just a formality, nothing to worry about. They’re very nice. The Grand Master is called Satele, she’s lovely…”

Sanghyuk tunes him out as he’s dragged along, blinking and trying to take in every detail. There’s not much in the spaceport for him to catalogue in his head, but the moment they walk through the door into the Temple proper the architecture changes—high, swooping ceilings, everything glittering in shades of gold or bronze or tan or white, so quintessentially Jedi that Sanghyuk clenches his fists in order to stop himself from bursting out into raucous laughter. He feels vaguely light-headed, and wonders what the Council will think if he passes out as soon as he’s presented to them. That would be pretty entertaining. The marble floor they’re walking on is so shiny that when he looks down he can see his own face peering back at him, and he grins maniacally at himself.

“I made it,” he tells his reflection, hugging Hongbin close. “I made it.”

//

As it turns out, Sanghyuk doesn’t faint when he’s presented to the Council, because Hongbin was right—they’re all very nice. They don’t pay much attention to him, anyway. They’re more concerned about Taekwoon’s mission, and seem disappointed that he didn’t find the Sith, whose name no one is mentioning. When Taekwoon quietly explains that he gave the Sith’s lightsaber to Wonshik, a range of expressions cross the Council’s faces, and Taekwoon juts his chin forward defiantly in response. Sanghyuk tries to tune them out and pay attention to the wonderful architecture of the Council room—high ceilings, swooping arches, curving polished wood walls, the huge table that the Jedi are sitting around. It’s all so foreign to him that it’s easy to stand there and listen with half an ear. There’s something strange about the way the Council is talking to Taekwoon, or rather talking about Taekwoon and the Sith, but Sanghyuk can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s really none of his business, anyway, and he’s happy so long as he never has to see the horrid Sith again. He still remembers his face—he was gorgeous, with a jawline that made him look like a Greek God and a nose to fit, but that was all superseded by the way his eyes had glowed yellow at Sanghyuk in the darkness.

“...And I believe you have brought someone with you,” one of the Jedi is saying, and Sanghyuk snaps back to attention when he realises they’re all looking at him. The Jedi is a woman, older than Taekwoon, and Sanghyuk can sense her power. “A Force-sensitive. Did you bring him here to be trained?”

“No,” Taekwoon replies instantly. “He is too rash and impatient for that. The sensitivity was a coincidence. He was the last person to see Ja—to see the Sith. He’s the one that stole his lightsaber.”

There’s a moment of silence where everyone in the room looks at Sanghyuk dubiously, and he puts his hands on his hips defensively. Alright, it’s quite obviously a fluke that he snagged the lightsaber since he’s nothing but a street rat from Tatooine, but they don’t have to be so _blatant_ about it. “How did you manage that? What’s your name?” the woman asks, beckoning for Sanghyuk to step forward.

“I’m Han Sanghyuk,” he tells her, bowing because it feels like the right thing to do. “I was drunk and I bumped into the Sith outside the cantina on Anchorhead. I went to shoot him and shot his lightsaber instead. I grabbed it, he tried to shoot lightning at me, and then someone else distracted him and I was able to escape.”

Another long silence. “How did you manage to evade the Sith?” the woman says, before seeming to remember she hasn’t introduced herself. “I’m Grand Master Satele Shan. This is Master Orgus Din, Master Bela Kiwiiks, Master Tol Braga, Master Syo Bakarn, and Master Oric Traless.” She gestures around the table at the various other Jedi. There should be twelve of them, even Sanghyuk knows that, but he also knows that after the War the Jedi were crippled, so it’s not surprising there’s only six sitting here. Satele, Syo Bakarn and Orgus Din are human, but the rest are all aliens—some species he’s seen before, some he hasn’t.

“I was born and raised on Tatooine. I can survive in the desert for months if I need to. I only vanished for a week, though, and by the time I went back to Anchorhead the Sith had skipped town.”

“I see. Well, Sanghyuk, you were very brave, although I’m not quite sure what your motivations were for taking the lightsaber,” Satele replies with a raised eyebrow. “I believe Master Taekwoon wants to have you transferred here to protect you from the Sith. He seems to think that you’ll be safer here. What say you?”

Sanghyuk catches Taekwoon’s eye. In front of all these powerful Jedi, he seems a little smaller, a little more hunched over. His face is as expressionless as ever, though, and he doesn’t smile at Sanghyuk at all. Hongbin, on the other hand, looks encouraging. “I would love to live here,” Sanghyuk confesses to Satele, ripping his eyes away from the two Jedi. “Tatooine was such a shithole. It was only home because I could never seem to get offworld. If I wouldn’t be too much of a burden, I’d be honoured to help you in any way I can. I can fix things, and I’m a really good shot, and I’m really good at… hotwiring speeders…” he trails off, realising that not only has he just sworn in front of the entire Jedi Council he’s also admitted to grand theft speeder. Not that it matters, since Tatooine is outside of the Republic’s reach, but _still._

Sanghyuk dips his head to look at the floor in shame, so he doesn’t see Master Orgus Din stifle his laughter in a cough, and he doesn’t see the other Jedi grinning widely at each other, and he doesn’t see Satele shaking her head with a small smile on her face, and he certainly doesn’t see Taekwoon looking at him with open, blatant affection. “Well, Sanghyuk, I’m sure we can find a use for you somewhere. We always need extra hands to keep this place running. Padawan Hongbin, why don’t you take Sanghyuk outside and find him an astromech droid, just as a companion while he gets settled in? Master Taekwoon and I will join you in a moment,” says Satele.

Hongbin and Sanghyuk bow in unison and trot away, pushing out of the huge double doors. The moment they swing shut behind them Hongbin grabs Sanghyuk by the arm and folds at the waist, wheezing with laughter, sounding so asthmatic that Sanghyuk wonders if he needs a medpac or something. “Oh my god! You swore in front of the Jedi Council! You… Oh my god!”

It only takes a moment for Sanghyuk to find the funny side, too, and soon he’s leaning desperately on Hongbin for support as he laughs so hard he cries. It’s not even that funny—it’s just a combination of his own stupidity and the release of every emotion he’s had since leaving Tatooine. By the time they manage to straighten up, they can’t even look at each other because they keep setting each other off with more giggle attacks. It’s easier to look at the temple as they go down the ramps, anyway, and it’s more of the same—huge, high ceilings, curved walls adorned with holoprojectors showing (what Sanghyuk assumes are) famed Jedi of the past, and carpet that muffles their steps.

“Wait, did she say droid?” Sanghyuk blurts.

Hongbin snorts and looks at the ground. “Yeah,” he replies, but his voice is wobbly and Sanghyuk can tell he’s holding back laughter. “Isn’t it funny? You hate droids, and now you’re stuck with one.”

“I hate you, and I’m stuck with you too,” Sanghyuk snaps back lightheartedly.

That earns him a shove from Hongbin. Sanghyuk pushes him back more forcefully, sending him spiralling towards a wall, but Hongbin turns and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Force pushes Sanghyuk forward so he goes flying through a doorway, his arms wheeling furiously as he tries to stop himself. That leads to some playful wrestling that only stops when Sanghyuk hears the familiar beeps of an astromech droid and groans, clapping a hand over his eyes and shaking his head.

“If I’d known I’d get stuck with a stupid droid I would have stayed on Tatooine and risked the Sith,” he grumbles as he stomps along behind Hongbin.

Hongbin snorts. “Oh, come on. Astromech droids aren’t so bad. I wish Master Taekwoon would get one. It would make my life a lot easier.”

There’s a lot of odd things about Taekwoon, Sanghyuk is only just starting to realise. How quiet he is. How he prefers to just work with Hongbin—running that big ship with just the two of them must be stressful, considering they don’t even have a protocol droid (as much as C2N2 annoyed Sanghyuk, at least he was useful most of the time). How he’s hunting down a lone Sith, which, from what Sanghyuk understands about the Jedi, goes against everything in their Code—at least, if Taekwoon is hunting him down for revenge. How the Council seemed so skittish around the issue of said Sith. How Sanghyuk still doesn’t know his name. How Taekwoon is so hot and cold. How Sanghyuk genuinely can’t tell if Taekwoon even likes him as a person or not. How every time they touch Sanghyuk’s heart starts beating like—

He shakes those thoughts away. They’re entirely pointless, since Taekwoon and Hongbin are destined to go off to save the galaxy and he’s destined to… not save the galaxy. Instead he follows Hongbin resolutely, knowing he needs to savour all the time he’s got with his new friend. Even friends are a strange concept to him, really; they don’t really exist on Tatooine. Everyone wants something from everyone else. He gets the distinct feeling that the way his life has changed so abruptly will affect him deeper than it is currently, but he squashes his feelings of unease and skips to catch up with Hongbin, jabbing him in the side playfully and laughing as Hongbin pretends to be mortally wounded. This is simple, this is easy, he can do this. He can do this.

//

“Give me your holocom.”

Sanghyuk does, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it over to Taekwoon slightly bewilderedly. They’re standing in the spaceport again, but this time Sanghyuk knows he has to stay behind while the Jedi leave. There’s a astromech droid by his side, one that Hongbin had picked out for him—said he took it on a few missions when he was still an Initiate, before he passed the Trials, said it was reliable. T7-O1, it’s called, but Hongbin had gleefully called it “teeseven” as he flung his arms around it to give it a hug. It doesn’t seem too annoying, and seems reasonably happy to show Sanghyuk around, so he’s tolerating it. For now.

“There,” Taekwoon murmurs, handing Sanghyuk the holocom, their fingers brushing. “I saved my frequency in there. If you’re ever in trouble, or… or you need help, you can call me.”

Blinking, Sanghyuk shoves the holocom back in his pocket, slightly stunned at this. Taekwoon has already done him a great favour by rescuing him from Tatooine—and a rescue it most definitely is; there’s no point pretending otherwise. If the Sith hadn’t got him, he’s sure he would have ended up dead in the desert sooner rather than later. Tatooine has a way of wearing you down around your edges until there’s nothing left but the rawness of your very soul. It’s entirely unpleasant, and that’s perhaps why Sanghyuk got into fights nearly every other week. Taekwoon has already done his duty, but this is beyond duty, he knows; something’s driving the Jedi to do this, and he can’t quite put his finger on what. “Thanks,” he murmurs, shifting on his feet, unsure what to do from here.

Taekwoon takes a step towards him, reaching his hand out, and Sanghyuk thinks for a moment he’s going to hug him, and moves into him slightly—until Hongbin comes bounding up behind him, slinging his arm over Sanghyuk’s shoulder jovially. “Ready to go, Master?”

“Yes,” Taekwoon replies, giving Sanghyuk a small smile before turning away and traipsing up the ramp to disappear in the belly of the ship. The last Sanghyuk sees of him is the bottom of his robe, swaying gently. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

Taekwoon is apparently eager to get going, because with a whir the engines start spooling up above their head, and T7 beeps, alarmed. Hongbin grabs Sanghyuk by the arm and pulls him in for a hug—he doesn’t seem to have any of his Master’s skittishness with touching—that’s warm and sincere, and Sanghyuk doesn’t really want to let him go. How utterly cruel of the universe to give him two friends and then rip them away almost immediately. It’s not like he’ll never see them again, but the galaxy is a dangerous place for Jedi, and they don’t have much time to make social calls. At least he has the holocom, and at least he’s with the Jedi Council; there’s no one else in the universe who would be able to get a hold of them as fast as they can.

“Hey, listen,” he yells over the noise of the engines, gripping Hongbin’s arm so he can’t run up the ramp. This has been niggling at him ever since they left the Council chamber, and he needs to know. “What’s the story with that Sith? Why are you going after him?”

When Hongbin turns back, there’s pain in his eyes, and he bites his lip. Sanghyuk wasn’t expecting that, and he doesn’t want to do, doesn’t even know what to say. “He was Master Taekwoon’s friend. They were brought into the Academy together. They were like brothers. The Council said they’d never seen anything like it. He fell to the dark side not long after they both passed the trials to become Knights. Master Taekwoon doesn’t talk about it, ever. He says it doesn’t affect him anymore.” Hongbin hesitates, and Sanghyuk can see the doubt written all over his face. “I don’t believe him.”

“What’s his name?”

Hongbin turns as he gets on the ramp, looking down at Sanghyuk as it starts to close. “He’s… he’s called Jaehwan.”

 _Jaehwan_. Sanghyuk files that name away in his head and looks up as the ramp closes, shutting away a glum-looking Hongbin. The ship’s engines reach fever pitch, and Sanghyuk ducks, clapping his hands over his ears as the roar echoes through the whole spaceport. The ship lifts off and flies away, and Sanghyuk is left crouching on the floor with nothing but a droid by his side, staring up to catch a last glimpse of the ship before the sky swallows it up.

He looks at T7, who beeps encouragingly, and starts to cry.


	4. Epilogue

_“No!”_

Taekwoon’s voice rings out across the room as the Sith raises his hand, sparks arcing between his fingers. Sanghyuk sees it coming, and raises the lightsaber to try and block it—but a Jedi he is not, and his reflexes are good, but not _that_ good. The lightning hits him in the middle of his chest and he drops like a stone, writhing with pain. It rips through his every cell, tears through his flesh, rends his bones, and he’s sure his eyes are going to melt and his skin is being ripped away because he has never felt anything more excruciating in his life.

 _“What’s this?”_ the Sith purrs, his voice low and sultry. Through the haze of pain, Sanghyuk can see yellow eyes narrowed at him. _“Your feelings give you away, Taekwoon. Your habit of forming attachments will be your downfall.”_

From over the Sith’s shoulder, Sanghyuk sees Taekwoon raise his lightsaber to strike, but the Sith shoots more lightning at him and he screams helplessly, sure he’s going to die.  
  
_“Leave him alone!”_ Taekwoon roars, and leaps between Sanghyuk and the Sith, engaging him and forcing them back. Their lightsabers are moving so fast they’re just blotches of colour, but Sanghyuk can’t really see what’s happening properly—he’s too busy moaning with the pain, residual sparks making their way through his body, making him twitch. Sanghyuk wants to tell Taekwoon _no_  but he cannot, the agony is too much—

“Sanghyuk!”

He jolts upright, his heart racing so fast it’s about to burst out of his chest, and rears backwards at the figure leaning over his bed. But he knows her, he knows how she feels, it’s just Satele and when she reaches out a hand to touch him on the forehead he lets her, closing his eyes and trying to relax into the touch. The light’s on, and T7 is blinking worriedly at him, and he realises he’s still in his room, his fingers wound into the sheets.

“Nightmares again?” she murmurs, sitting down on the side of the bed and peering at him, her eyebrows drawn together.

Sanghyuk should consider himself lucky that Satele has taken him under her wing, especially as he’s not even a Jedi or a Padawan; he’s just someone who runs after her and the Council, getting under their feet as much as possible and trying to learn along the way. It’s only been a month since Taekwoon and Hongbin left, after all, and he still finds himself getting up in the morning expecting the scorching heat of the two suns. It doesn’t help that he’s been consistently having nightmares for the whole month, either—nightmares that he can’t remember anything of when he wakes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly. “I don’t know… I can’t ever remember what they are… I see lightsabers and not much else.”

Satele purses her lips in a thin line. “When I get some time over the next week or so I’ll sit with you and teach you some mindfulness techniques. It should help.”

“I thought I was too old to become a Jedi. Or was it too stubborn? Or was it reckless?”

“This isn’t Jedi training,” she replies, shaking her head, trying to hide her smile. Her brown hair, knotted in several small braids, falls around her face, and when she looks back up at him her blue eyes are creased around the corners. “This is just… it might help you with the nightmares, is what I mean. Now, try and go back to sleep.”

It’s an order, he knows, so he obediently rolls over, feeling like a child. This is not an experience he ever had on Tatooine; there was never anyone looking out for him, telling him to go to bed at appropriate times or checking that he was alright. So it’s strange for him that Satele cares so much, especially as he doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things. He waits for her to leave again before rolling over to grab the datapad that lies on the bedside table, turning on the screen and typing in his keywords quickly.

As per usual, just like every other time he’s done this search, nothing comes back for _Jedi Jung Taekwoon_ —he’d found out Taekwoon’s last name by eavesdropping on the Council. Same with Hongbin’s, but _Padawan Lee Hongbin_ doesn’t return anything either. He doesn’t know if that’s good news or bad news, really. He tries a few different searches, varying his keywords, and in the end he gets so frustrated that he considers throwing the useless thing across the room. The blue glow of its screen is infuriating when it can’t offer him the information he needs. He goes to put it back on his bedside table, but something stops him, and hesitantly he types in _Sith Jaehwan_ , holding his breath as the results load.

Nothing. He should have known.

With a huff he throws the datapad down to the floor and rolls over, yanking the blankets over his head and closing his eyes. He tries not to be offended that he hasn’t heard from the two Jedi yet, but really, he’s feeling homesick for a place he didn’t even know he liked and he doesn’t even have any friends, unless you count T7 and Satele. Which he doesn’t.

Safe, Taekwoon had said. Ha. He’d wanted safety. He just didn’t know it would be this _boring_.

**Author's Note:**

> act ii will be up within the next couple of days!


End file.
